


Love?

by myspacemywri8ing



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Husbands, Auror Partners, But he's not the high one here, HP probably already has one well here's another, Harry is so smitten it's gross really, Head Injury, M/M, So is draco, Temporary Amnesia, That every fandom needs, This is the temporary amnesia fic of fluff, lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 07:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17463380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myspacemywri8ing/pseuds/myspacemywri8ing
Summary: Harry leans towards undoubtedly getting ready for another question—“ So are you single?”Draco would have slipped to the floor if he wasn’t already sitting down, because nothing in Harry’s expression conveyed that he was joking. Draco had naturally assumed that— well he wasn’t certain what he’d assumed but it certainly wasn’t this.OrHarry gets injured and forgets he's married, shameless flirting, and fluff ensues





	Love?

**Author's Note:**

> You see I'm not sure what this is...but I sort of had fun writing this, hope people have fun reading it too. I've literally read this trope everywhere but Drarry (if there are other fics of this kind in the fandom please let me know), so I decided to write one myself. This is unbeta-ed so there might be mistakes, please ignore those if you can. I'll probably come back and correct them in a few days.

Draco tried to push down the panic and the faint simmer of anger and annoyance that always accompanied situations like this, and to concentrate on what the mediwitch is telling him. She was talking something about head trauma, how mild to severe it can be, how lucky Mr. Potter was, how he’d have some symptoms as side effects of the potions administered to him, and how he needed to rest for a few days.

Draco took all of those information with a distant sort of acknowledgement. She sounded haggard and looked like she was ready to keel over, probably was pulling an extra long shift. That did nothing to ease his worries. Objectively he knew that the situation was probably not very serious, since the entirety of Wizarding Britain’s paparazzi weren’t currently outside St. Mungos. But it was established that his heart never listened to reasons when it came to Harry. 

The case had pulled them in different directions throughout the country and they both hated working without each other. He hasn’t seen his husband for two weeks and finally when it’s time for them to meet, he gets to know that Potter was in St. Mungos because he was injured. He knew from experience that Harry was a go big or go home guy when it came to injuries. So, it was pretty likely that Hermione had watered down Harry’s condition to something that wouldn’t make Draco burst a vein, in the other side of the country while he was half way through an assignment. 

The door of the room they were keeping Harry in came into view, making him thumb his wedding band nervously, trying to leech away the reassurance it usually radiated in abundance, especially when he needed it.  
“Mr. Malfoy?”  
He startled out of his thoughts, realizing he’d stooped at the door. He directed a questioning gaze at the witch, who was looking at him with a mixture of understanding and annoyance that only medical professionals could pull off.  
“Mr. Malfoy, Healer Paul will be here in about half an hour to check the progress of the potion on Mr. Potter—” she skims through something on her chart, nodding her head in satisfaction over whatever she found. “Mr. Paul might clear him to go home today depending on the progress,” her tone suggested she said that only for Draco's sake. Which lead him to believe that he must be panicking outwardly much more than he anticipated, especially if half dead hospital employees were picking up on it. The information she offered does unclench something within him though, he sighs softly trying to let logic seep into his panic riddled brain and pushes the door, turning before he could catch a glimpse of his husband as his name was called again.  
“Yes?”  
“Make sure he doesn’t fall asleep, alright?”  
He nods at her, and impatiently enters the room, closing the door behind him with a click. Only to be welcomed with a wolf whistle—

“What on…” he muttered whipping his head towards the cot at the corner of the room, where Harry was propped up with a pillow, looking all fine and dandy except for the disoriented gaze peeking from behind crooked glasses.  
Harry kept staring at him almost eerily for a few seconds, which Draco used to get close to him earning a dramatic sigh from Harry.  
“Are you an angel?”  
“Pardon?” Draco asked raisin his eyebrows in surprise, did Harry really think he could get out of trouble by complimenting him, because after three years of marriage and five of relationship he expected his husband to know him a tad bit better.

“You’re like…” he gestures vaguely towards Draco, “pretty,” he finalizes with a satisfied nod.

Draco is still a bit dumbstruck, but he takes in the bown pupil and dopey smile (that does nothing but further reminds Draco as to why he loves this man so much!) and sighs trying to quash down the lecture that he had saved for this moment and smiles softly at his husband. Taking in the way Harry’s grin grows wider at that.

“How are you feeling Harry?” Draco asks, and sits down on the stool at the bedside.

“Better now that you’re here,” he replies again sighing dreamily, and looking at Draco with the most drugged out love-struck expression his scrambled brains could manage. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life,” he adds for good measure while trying and failing to paw towards Draco’s face. “Are you real?” he asks when his hand fails to make contact with Draco’s face. Lips tugging in a pout that used to get him out of almost anything in the beginning of their relationship.

“Of course I’m real Harry,” he replies taking the flailing hands in his own and squeezing slightly. “See, real,” he reassures smiling at his husband, faint blush dusting his cheeks at the unexpected onslaught of compliments, and general adorableness that came with Harry’s stupidity.

Harry leans towards him seemingly satisfied with the answer and undoubtedly getting ready for another question—  
“ So are you single?”

Draco would have slipped to the floor if he wasn’t already sitting down, because nothing in Harry’s expression conveyed the he was joking. Draco had naturally assumed that— well he wasn’t certain what he’d assumed but it certainly wasn’t this.  
“Harry wha—”

“Oh Merlin! Where are my manners. I didn’t even ask your name. What’s your name?”

Draco felt that annoying twinge of panic restart, pulsating beneath his ribs and reaching up to hold his throat in a vice. The mediwitch hadn’t told him about this, well she might’ve when he was too busy freaking out. He wish he could go back and smack himself for not paying attention—  
“Draco Malfoy,” he replied, it sounded almost like a croak, and his hands tightened around Harry’s, seeking out the warmth to reassure himself that his husband was most likely going to be alright.

Harry seemed to be in a world of his own, he wrapped both of his hands around Draco’s, bringing them to his lips and pecking gently on his knuckles (missing his target and awkwardly mushing the corner of his mouth on them, but it was the thought that counted) .  
“A beautiful name for a beautiful man,” voice dipping in a way that had made Draco drop his pants more times than he could count and once again he felt his face go up in flames. 

“You’re way too drugged to be this smooth Potter,” he muttered under his breath, sighing as Harry resumed to stare at him like a love-struck teenage girl. And Draco would know, he himself had worn it for years. 

Almost when he was getting ready to go and find a healer to ask if the situation was normal, the door was cracked open. 

“Oh Malfoy you’re here!” Ron Weasley walked in, looking every bit the overworked Auror and father of two hyper active toddlers, he was. 

“Hi mate!” Harry almost squealed even before Draco could open his mouth. Swinging the hand that was holding Draco’s in a crude wave. 

“Hi Harry…you’re in high spirits…the healers cleared you or something?” He asked good naturedly, his face contorting in a puzzled expression when Harry didn’t reply and resumed his staring at Draco. 

“Don’t mind him Weasley, the potions are apparently messing with his head,” Draco reassured, slightly annoyed that Harry remembered Ron but not him. 

“You two know each other?” Harry asks apparently forgetting that he hasn’t gotten an answer to his previous question. “He’s so beautiful isn’t he Ron?” he adds, now dramatically clutching his heart, and staring beseechingly at Ron for approval of his astounding discovery. 

Ron sputters for a few seconds going red in the face and looking back and forth between Harry and Draco. Draco watched him struggle, the amusement was threatening to burst from within him in an evil chortle, when Weasley finally appeared to have recovered his voice. 

“What the hell! Malfoy is this normal? Mate, Harry are you alright? Don’t you—

“Don’t you think he’s pretty Ron? I’m thinking of asking him out,” he leans towards Ron to whisper conspiratorially.

Draco finally does lose and chuckle into his fist, as Ron opened and closed his mouth like a confused fish. 

“Yes Ron don’t you think I’m pretty?” He asks almost bursting into a giggle when Ron turns to fix him with a glare. 

“Oh he does, this one time, when we were back at Hogwarts,” Harry started, gaining Draco’s attention, “I was probably thinking of asking you out and he went ‘I know he’s fine, mate! But he drinks cold tea, cold tea? that’s unacceptable!’”. 

The story earned him confused glances from both his audience which turned into another chuckle for Draco and another round of indignant sputtering for Ron. 

“How come you remember that and not other _much more_ important things,” Ron huffed out crossing his arms defensively, brilliantly red in the face as Draco continued to giggle like a slightly deranged walrus.  
“I’m really flattered that you acknowledge my beauty Weasley,” he adds breathlessly to his dying laughter. “Anyways,” he sobers up the next moment almost dramatically (although he did look like he was biting his cheek), “Weasley stay with him, I’ll go try to fetch a healer.” 

“You have a beautiful laugh you know,” Harry sighed dreamily, whatever brain cells he had recovered for a few second had suddenly made themselves scarce. 

“Thank you Harry,” Draco could hardly suppress the fond smile from taking over his face, his husband had never made a secret of how much he found Draco attractive. But this was too shameless and hopeless even by his standard, so naturally Draco couldn’t help but fall in love with him a bit more (Ron made a disgusted noise in the back muttering something about sappy sods, and ridiculous potions.) . 

“Urgh! Stay and what? Watch him moon over you the entire time. I’ve really had enough of that to last a lifetime. I’ll go get a healer, you deal with him,” he prattled in a single breath and an almost fond exasperation (the kind he kept almost exclusively for these set of people in his life) oozed out of him in waves. He paused at the door, turning around and calling out to Draco, “and for God’s sake Malfoy put him out of his misery.”

“So I know this bakery,” Harry starts, when something catches his eye, “goodness Draco are you married?” he asks, holding Draco’s left hand over his face for “closer inspection”. 

“Brilliant observation Potter.”

And just like that Harry’s shoulder visibly deflated, and his lips tugged downwards into a sad frown. He slowly let go of Draco’s hand as if it caused him great pain to do so. 

Draco let him suffer for a few seconds, his heart was surprisingly hammering in his chest. In what words do you tell your husband that you both are married to each other. He reached for Harry’s left hand and intertwined their fingers rings clinking in a familiar manner that automatically brought a smile to his face. Maybe Harry can now put two and two together—

“So, does this means you’re… umm like going to divorce him, because you uh like me?” Harry asked staring in wonder at their hands, biting his lips, no doubt worrying about the immoral act Draco was going to commit, but also secretly wanting it.

Draco easily came to the conclusion that he had severely overestimated his husband’s mental state. 

“No I married the love of my life and I’m never letting him go,” he declared watching as Harry deflated again.  
“Oh.”

“Goodness Harry see we have matching rings, we’re married. We’re married to each other silly.”

“Oh yay!” this time he perked up, “so I know this bakery—”

“I’ll go to whatever bakery you want me to love, but you have to get well for that,” Draco himself was tiered from work and travel, and the entire set of panic, stress, confusion, adoration and endearment had left him feeling a certain kind of dizzy. All he wanted was to go home with Harry, cuddle in their ridiculously large bed and sleep for a month or so. 

“We call each other love?” that was what he'd managed to get from that sentence which all things considered wasn't so bad. 

“We call each other all sorts of things, but you’re being a dear right now so I’ll settle for love.”

“Can’t believe I married an angel!” Harry whispered, apparently dead set on ignoring Draco’s comment. And Draco was pretty certain this sentiment was suppose to be just a thought, not meant to be spoken out loud. 

“Do I make you happy?” Harry asked, suddenly leaning close to Draco. Which was probably to express some kind of seriousness but all it did was turn him into a blurry blob and Draco move backwards so that his eyes wouldn’t need to cross for him to look at Harry. 

Draco found his balance by leaning back precariously; he looked at their intertwined hands nodding almost shyly, cheeks heating up because Harry still had ways to get to him after years of knowing and loving each other. “You make me happy Harry,” still lookin at their intertwined hands. Taking in everything they made him feel, scars, calluses, warmth and strength. 

“I should treat you right,” he says next, still leaning in a way that made it seem like he was going to topple over.  
“Lie down Potter, and no one treats me better than you and that is saying a lot, as you see, my parents adore me,” he muttered almost under his breath as his throat closed up and eyes grew suspiciously wet. Heart lurching in his chest as he pushed Harry back on the pillows. 

“Do you love me? Because I do… love you… you know. I must… I just know, how could I not, you’re lovely.”

At that Draco does feel a droplet of tear finally escape his eyes, and curses at the traitorous drop as he dabs at the wetness with his sleeve. Looks like the case has left him far more strung out than he anticipated. There was no way he’d be bawling at something like this in normal circumstances.

“I love you Harry,” _and you know it_ , this he doesn’t say out loud but conveys it in the kiss he presses on Harry’s temple. 

He is immensely glad when healer Paul marches into the room with Ron at tow. And immediately begins to check Harry’s vitals.  
( “Mr. Healer that’s my husband and he’s beautiful.” “Yes, Mr. Potter you’re a very lucky man, can you follow the motion of my wand with your eyes. Yes lovely, thank you Mr. Potter”) 

Draco stood back beside Ron, watching as a charmed quill vigorously took some notes. Embarrassment and endearment battling as Harry tried to wax some questionable poetry about his eyes, earning an amused smile from both Ron and the healer. 

“The potion will wear in an hour or so. You can take him home just make sure he doesn’t fall asleep for the next…let’s say two hours,” he said while handing Draco a parchment. “Those are a few standard potions he can take if he’s in too much pain, although I’m pretty confident that shouldn’t be an issue.”

Draco thanked the doctor and nodded absently when he took his leave. Starting when Ron pressed a bag in his hand, motioning towards Harry in a wave.  
“ ‘Mione packed some clothes for him.”  
“Thanks Weasley.”  
“I need to get back to the office, do you need me to send you a copy of the report? It’ll be good to have your input on it and Harry’s too, well, whenever he’s up for it.”

“Yeah just drop by after work, we’ll compare mine with yours see if we can find a pattern. The case isn’t going to solve itself,” the last part was almost a whisper, he sat heavily on the tool after Ron left. Departing with a nod towards Draco and a cheery “be good mate!” at Harry. 

He tugged Harry up and began to remove the hospital gown, pulling out the pair of sweatpants and jumper Hermione had packed for Harry. 

“What are you doing?” came a muffled voice from within the wriggling jumper as Draco tried to pull it over Harry’s head. 

“You need to sit still, we’re going home, don’t want to be late do you?”

“Home?” he asked excitedly as his head finally emerged from the jumper (thankfully from the right hole, Draco observed), his voice was still a bit distant and slurred, but his eyes seemed slightly focused.  
“Yes love, home.”

 

(“I want to call you love too.”  
“You already do Harry,” heavy sigh.  
“Love?”  
“Hmm.”  
“Love!”  
“Potter I’ll leave you here.”  
“Nooo!”  
“…”  
“Looovee?”)

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to this lonely creature on [tumblr](https://now-writing.tumblr.com). Kudos and comments are always welcome <3


End file.
